Moonlight: Frozen
by lupinskitten
Summary: Tormented by what he has done to Mick, Josef finds a welcome distraction in discerning the motives behind a series of vampire-related murders. SPOILERS from EP13. Readers should read "Shadows" first, as this is the second installment in an original serial
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**: A few months ago, I wrote an original fan fiction called "Shadows," in which I introduced my own character, Blair, into the world of Josef. I had so much positive feedback on that piece of fiction that I have decided to continue with their story. I hope my faithful readers will find it as enjoyable and unexpected as the first installment, and that new fans will please read the original first, in order to comprehend the fullness of the serial.

I will also add that the subject matter contained herein in later chapters, regarding the twist I have planned, may be considered offensive to overly sensitive readers. Consider this a general disclaimer and warning, since it is my nature to introduce controversial moral questions into most of my work. But for the patient and lenient reader, this fan fiction will pay off.

Comments and suggestions for the ship are welcome, and encouraged. Thank you for reading along!

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For as long as he had known him, Josef had never sensed a beating heart in Mick St. John's chest. It had been hollow, empty, devoid of movement or anything apart from sheer emotion, for Mick had shared the same silent existence as he had, the common torment and triumph known as a vampire. But now it pulsed beneath his veins, flowed in his blood, thundering in Josef's ears as it weakened beneath his unrelenting fangs. Mick had cried out when he had bit into him, stiffening with the shock that had accompanied the violence of the gesture, memories passing through his mind of Coraline and another night much like this one, in which he had died for the first time. Tonight, he would die again. He had begged Josef to turn him, to reinstate his position as a vampire so he could save the woman he loved. He had worked and striven so long to be human again, resting so many hopes on a seemingly impossible dream, and now it was flowing away from him along with the life-giving force of his blood.

The taste was like nothing Josef had ever experienced, for he was undoing Coraline's initial work, taking her place as his friend's sire, now the official source of his torment. It was not pleasant. It was vicious and brutal and ruthless and painful. Mick was fighting his urge to resist, to struggle to survive, weakening in his friend's arms as Josef felt life retreat from him, his eyes glazing over as he was lowered carefully to the nearest flat surface. Josef had sired others before, but all he could remember was his failure, the one instance in which he could not bring someone back: the woman he loved. He had been much gentler with her, reassuring her with passionate kisses before lowering his lips to her throat, cradling her neck as he sank his teeth into her soft skin. That had been erotic, intoxicating, invigorating, overwhelming. This was entirely different, an act almost of hatred because he loathed that Mick had demanded it from him, and that he had obeyed.

Mick was the color of a ghost, standing on the edge of mortal death, so near that if he took another step he would fall over into the abyss and never return. Josef removed his coat in a swift motion and threw it away from him, rolling up his sleeve and baring his arm. He grimaced as he sank his teeth into his own skin, creating a gash so deep it would not immediately heal, allowing the blood to drip onto his friend's mouth. "Come on, Mick," he whispered through gritted teeth, "rise and shine." If he had been able to pray, he would have, but instead he waited and blood flowed, watching as the transformation came, seeping through in an immediate healing of the wounds he had left in Mick's throat. Weak fingers lifted to grip his arm, bringing it to Mick's mouth as slowly forming fangs sank into his flesh.

The pain was excruciating, the blood being pulled from his own form into that of another immortal, but the agony was welcomed, for it was reassurance that Mick would survive, that he had not left it too long or taken too much strength from him. The fingers fell away, Mick rising slowly from the table and allowing his head to drop forward, his friend watching in relieved expectation as his milky eyes opened and he snarled, flexing the sharp teeth that now appeared in his red mouth. Mick looked at him and something passed between them that was inexplicable, a kind of resentful agreement never to speak of it again. The human scents were gone from the room, replaced with a thunderous intensity of power and mutual anger, each of them resentful at what the situation had forced out of them.

What happened after that was a blur of combined exhilaration and abandonment, for their mutual emotions worked into a combined sense of ruthlessness that left bodies in their wake. Impaled, sliced open, thrown across rooms and staked, never before had they accompanied one another with such precision and poise, for Josef's recycled blood had made Mick stronger, had built on the foundation Coraline had created so many years ago. It was only in the late hours when he had parted from Mick, leaving him to his tragic romantic explanations to the journalist he was so passionately in love with, that Josef experienced the full emotions of his actions. The knowledge that he had forever crushed Mick's desire to be human, that he had brought to an end what his friend had striven so long to obtain, that he alone was responsible. The feeling left him feeling sick inside, the memory of draining his friend to death so horrific that he would have given anything to blot it from his mind.

He dropped the car keys onto the side table in the entrance of his home, staring down at them in the waning darkness, for dawn was impending, as their mission had taken most of the night. He could still hear Mick's heart pounding in his ears, weakening, giving out, his humanity blending into an otherworldly existence as his senses sharpened and came into focus. Josef had not had time to fear he could not do it, to question his own inabilities, but had acted in the brazen assumption that it could be done. Fortunately, he had not failed but it was the knowledge that he might have that made the recollection of the act all the more devastating.

Josef was quiet and stationary so long in his position that Blair came forward from the shadows. He had sensed her approach from the beginning, knowing that she had arisen with the sound of the garage door coming down. He had felt her pulse across the room, heard her soft breathing, and smelled the faint trace of violets that accompanied her wherever she went. Blair had come into his life without warning, frustrating him to no end, but he found her impossible to live without. She was so much like him in so many ways that he found her fascinating, different from every other woman he had ever known. There was something dangerous in Blair, locked beneath the surface. She came into the fading moonlight and he saw the transformation that came over her face, one of concern at his tormented appearance. Her slender form was clothed in a dressing gown that did not conceal the lightness of her skin, almost as pale as his. She knew something was wrong but did not have the heart to ask, approaching to lace her fingers through his, and kiss the back of his hand. There were no emotions in his eyes as he looked at her, so cold and distant that anyone else would have left him alone; but Blair was different from other people. She understood him in ways no one else ever could.

Leading him further into the house, she took him to her room, a place he never ventured unless invited. It was his house, but her space, and not since their initial conflict had she allowed him such intimacies. She was careful around him, not intimidated in the knowledge of what he was, but physically distant enough that he would make no assumptions that her presence was more than one of complacent companionship. But he needed more than a friend tonight—not a lover, but someone to reassure him that whatever ghosts of hell tormented him could be vanquished. Her hands remained steady as she removed his jacket and unbuttoned his vest, sliding it from his shoulders. But when he caught her hand, he felt her pulse increase as he lifted it to his lips, sliding them across her bare skin in a gesture of affectionate fascination. It was tempting to taste her, to partake of the invitation she had extended to him when she had learned the truth; but until now he had resisted and though it arose his bloodlust, he did no more than kiss the flawless satin of her skin.

She had held her breath and now released it as he drew her into his arms and buried his face in her hair, finding her human scent comforting in the midst of the grief that invaded his soul. Blair did not resist or attempt to pull away, though he felt her heart pounding with his nearness. There was no resistance in her as he rested her against the pillows, content to lay against his chest and allow him to experience the emotions he had been avoiding throughout the evening, the internal suffering that never made it onto his features. His nearness was making her cold, and he drew the blanket up around her, the most he could do other than to leave her presence, for vampires had no body heat. She thanked him silently, warmth spreading across her despite the chill of the arms that held her.

"Whatever you did, Josef," she whispered, "you are not to blame."

Her words were comforting, but erroneous. He _was_ to blame. And Mick could never look at him the same way again.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning came, and with it, heaviness compounded by the rain that assailed the valley, pouring in torrents against the windows and obscuring their view of the city, spread out in the sprawling hills that surrounded the coast. The trees were weighted with dampness and the pool's surface was a constant source of movement as the rain created tiny spirals that rippled out with each drop. Blair was seated at the breakfast table when he emerged from his room, her hand wrapped around a cup of coffee and the morning paper spread out before her. One foot was propped up on the chair beside her, showing a considerable amount of leg, and she glanced up at him as he entered, indicating with a flash of pensive eyes that she was uncertain of his response. He had lain in her arms most of what remained of the night, unmoving even when she arose to shower, gone when she had come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

It had been several hours since then and he was dressed, his dark hair tousled against his forehead and a look of satisfaction in his gaze that indicated he had fed. Josef felt nothing as he came forward, trailing his hand along the table and bringing it to her shoulder as he leaned over her to examine what held her interest in the newspaper. "ANOTHER GRUESOME DEATH IN THE PARK" read the headline, and the description was of a middle aged man found with his throat slashed open by late night joggers. From the obscure but revealing details, he knew it was a vampire, and was surprised the Cleaner had not discovered it before the police. But then, her team had been rather busy last night. He and Mick had left a siege of expired vampires in their wake, as they cut a swath through the guards in the warehouse, a virtual bloodbath created in a matter of minutes that had taken hours for the Cleaners to make disappear. The police had returned along with the incompetent detective Josef had accompanied back to the precinct, and found no evidence that anything had happened—not a drop of blood or a scrap of skin, not so much as a hair out of place. That was why the Cleaner was so highly regarded. She did a good job, and worked fast.

"Who in their right mind would go jogging in general, much less in the middle of the night?" Blair remarked, eager to refrain from conversation about what had transpired the night before. She was blunt in her opinions and evasive in her curiosity, but he knew that she wondered what had happened, what had brought him home so distraught and defeated, smelling of a combination of blood and regret. Josef said nothing as he went to the glass door to look out over the surrounding countryside, his hands in his pockets. He could watch her in the reflection on the glass, noting that she gazed at him a long time before she said, "This killer is one of your kind, is he not?"

"Six months ago you would have said he was a pathological murderer with a morbid fascination for throat cutting," Josef said wryly, knowing her penchant for vicious crimes. Blair had entered college with no clear indication of a chosen profession in mind, but of late had wavered dangerously toward psychology. It was possible that the death of her best friend had brought it on, a violent, irreversible action that had left her devastated and searching for answers. She had been full of questions once the shock had worn off, demanding details from him that he had been reluctant to provide, but he had told her as much as was prudent, that the vampire responsible had committed heinous acts and would never harm her again. He was dead. Josef had defeated him, engulfed him in flames, watched with pleasure as he had been vanquished in a burning inferno.

There had been no guilt then. Strange that he would experience it now.

Lowering the newspaper so it was once more flat on the table, Blair answered, "Six months ago, you could not have convinced me vampires existed, much less that I would be living with one." There was a smile in her voice despite the seriousness of their conversation, and he turned to look at her. He sensed she wanted to come to him, for approaching him across the room would be more intimate than remaining at the table, but she did not move, fighting all her natural instincts in the hope he would open up with her. Blair had anticipated when he had revealed his affection for her that emotional intimacies would follow, but had been disappointed, for while he had shared certain of his secrets with her, there were a great many more that she would never experience, things of such immeasurable darkness that he dared not reveal them. She was curious about his immortality, about his eccentricities and needs, but never asked where he found nourishment, or why occasionally he came home in a bleak frame of mind.

He had given her permission to move in a month after they had met, and much to his surprise, she had accepted, making it absolutely clear that she was not his pet, nor his lover, or his source of refreshment unless she decided otherwise. But these surroundings much more suited her than the cramped dorm room at the college, her education thriving despite her new interests and obsessions, ranging from countless questions and observations about his lifestyle to the numerous books she poured through in an attempt to find understanding of his kind, of his moods and needs and desires. Vampires were different from mortals, more connected to one another and the world around them. Everything was more intense for them, from scent and taste and touch to smell and emotion. She could not know what it was like for a vampire to feed, to feel life flowing into them; to fight, in the knowledge certain death would come to one of them; to make love, such a mind numbing experience that mere mortals were transfixed by it. It was beyond her comprehension.

The silence had lingered so long between them that it was now profound, Josef responding at last, "Yes, it is one of my kind."

He did not really care. Humans were a necessary evil. Whether one died or a dozen did not matter to him, so long as it never indicated vampirism. There had been five murders over the last four weeks, all of them of men, some older and some younger, but all found in remote places: the park, the woodland outside the city, and more perversely, one of them beneath the swings in a local playground. Josef was certain there had been more of them, that the Cleaner had found some of the bodies first, but it was enough to have drawn the attention of the newspapers, of live media, of Buzzwire. It was only a matter of time before Beth began to pursue it, to put her journalistic talents to good use, before she pulled Mick into the midst of it, and they set out to bring an end to it. Mick often reigned in rogue vampires, forced to subdue or kill them, though the latter was the most common practice, and one Josef supported. The modern world was far too clever to leave any rogue too long on the streets, for it risked their discovery. Better a dead vampire than one who informed society of their continued existence. Vampires were now no more than legends, horror stories told to children in the dead of night, or to romantics curled up with a novel. Dracula was a violent lover that brought a smile to women's hearts, and a flush to their features, Lestat a self-absorbed but deeply tormented soul. No one ever suspected that Josef had known them both, or at least, their shrewd, calculating inspirations.

"I'm surprised your friend Mick has not done anything about it," Blair observed, and her companion studied her in an effort to discern if she meant anything more by it than was implied. But her features were impassive, shadowed, not willing to pursue the reason he had left her so abruptly the evening before, when he learned Beth had been taken hostage. Josef had known Mick would attempt to rescue her, and in his pathetic human form, would only succeed in getting himself killed. He did not know why he had gone to the apartment other than to stop him, for he had no intention of going himself, and certainly not of transforming his friend back into what he hated. Had fate drawn him there, or the devil? He could not know for certain.

That he did not answer indicated she was right in her suspicion that his moodiness had something to do with Mick, and Blair pursed her lips, as she often did when deep in thought. Rain was drumming against the windows and the house was quiet, flooded with emotions beneath the surface but grim in its melancholy observances. Blair swung her foot to the ground and stood, moving in the direction of the hall closet. She was removing her rain coat when Josef came up behind her, making not a sound on the polished wooden floor. "Where are you going?" he inquired, knowing she had no classes that day.

Blair fastened the buttons on her little black trench coat, soft brown curls falling around her face as she looked up at him. "I'm going to see Mick," she replied, and reached for the front door.

It opened only an inch before his hand came down on it, closing it again. He moved so swiftly that she had barely seen him, one instant behind her and the next in front of her, his voice sharper than she had ever heard it as he commanded, "You will not involve Mick in this."

"Why not? Surely, he must be working on it. I want to know who is behind it, and if it will soon end. If this rogue is not stopped, sooner or later someone is going to become suspicious. I don't know about you, Josef, but I would rather the term 'vampire' was not mentioned in the newspapers." Blair reached for the doorknob but could not pull it open so long as he remained standing there, more strength in the flat of his hand than she had in her entire body. She gave him a dirty look but he refused to move, remaining steadfast in his position. Today would not be an ideal day to encounter Mick, for one look at him and she would suspect what had happened. It was Blair who had encountered Josef shortly after learning about Mick's transformation to human and seen his unhappiness. He had come to gradual acceptance, but it had not softened the knowledge that Mick had betrayed their kind, even for a short time. How long would it have lasted without Josef's intervention? A month? Two? Six months in which to love and be loved by Beth, to dream of the family he could never have, to walk on the beach and get a tan, to eat and drink and sleep and dream, things vampires could no longer remember, much less participate in.

He should not have experienced so much guilt. Mick had demanded that he do this, had begged him, had threatened him, had pleaded with him until Josef, with tears in his eyes, had done as he requested. It was done now and there would be no reversing it. Mick had made his decision, and Josef had made his. The look in his eyes was so fierce that Blair's countenance softened.

"Did you two have a fight?"

His lips curved in an ironic smile. Fights were what they had had in times past, when Josef had snarled at him that humanity was nothing to aspire to, that humans were weak, pathetic, worthless beings without knowledge of true existence, mere shadows of vampires, who could transcend time. Vampires did not witness history; they _were _history, in its most primal form, their existence surpassing all else. The things he had seen and participated in, events that remained fixed in his mind. Arguments with Mick were violent, two equally passionate opinions colliding with the force of empires. Some of them had ended in bared fangs and guttural growls, in slamming doors and shouted insults. That was what their friendship was formed of, of equal liking and loathing, of enjoyment of one another's company and annoyance at their numerous differences.

Blair was looking at him with curiosity, bringing him forth from his thoughts through the force of her gaze. Wryly, he replied, "Something like that."

"Then come with me to the morgue. We'll look into it ourselves. Come on, Josef. I'm _bored,_ and God knows you need something to do to take your mind off whatever is bothering you. One quick trip to the morgue, one look at the body, and then we'll come home and you can brood and pout for as many hours as you wish." She paused for a beat and then added, reluctantly, "Please?"

Maybe it was general insanity that made him compliant, or his own desperation to get away from the morbid nature of his thoughts, to defeat the memories flooding through his mind that were not his own, but belonged to Mick. Whenever a vampire fed, they retained a part of their victim, a glimpse into their soul, and the sires always held a strong connection to their children, an emotional link that did not fade with time but strengthened through the force of their combined memories. He had discovered too much in the transformation, learned too many details; they were swimming about in his head, obscuring his vision and forcing him into an admission that he needed preoccupation. In the old days, he would have engaged in some murderous rampage, but in modern times more subtle methods were needed.

Removing his fingers from the door frame, he nodded.

Blair gave him a hint of a smile as she went to retrieve his keys.


	3. Chapter 3

The haze that surrounded the morgue was no different from his mood as they pulled into the parking lot. Josef had regretted his decision the instant he had stepped into the car, for he was not an errand boy. Mick did this kind of thing. Visited morgues, sniffed dead bodies, examined gaping wounds. Josef had never given a damn about any of it, not two hundred years earlier and certainly not now. But Blair had refused to give him the keys and driven them herself, a smile on her lips as she had surpassed the speed limit in her eagerness. One would have thought former narrow brushes with death would be enough to make her cautious, but her recent fascination with vampires indicated she would not leave this alone. It was an attribute that might have been admirable under different circumstances, but now only served to further aggravate him. She parked and put the corvette in gear before turning off the engine, the rain pattering against the window as she looked across at him.

"When was the last time you were in a morgue, Josef?" she inquired, luring his dour attention away from the bleak surroundings and ominous building before them. Josef stared at her without blinking, casting his mind back. Never? Three hundred years? Longer? He could not honestly say it was a place he normally frequented. His own death had not taken him that far, only through blinding agony and rushing emotions, awakening to a world much altered with his shifted perceptions. It was Mick who haunted morgues, who bought gallons of blood off the vampires who worked so tirelessly in the bleak halls, who searched for answers concerning the dead bodies that wound up there. His features must have shown his repulsion that she would ask such a thing, and Blair replied saucily, "Good, then it's a first for both of us. Come on."

Cold came rushing in when she opened her door and caused her to shudder beneath her sexy little trench coat, but it felt no different to him than his normal surroundings. He was accustomed to it, welcomed it, had spent half of his vampire existence in freezers and bathtubs filled with ice. Josef pulled a face and followed out of boredom more than anything else, Blair waiting to wrap her arm around his and escort him through the side door. The corridors were devoid of movement, the hour of the day peculiar for arrival times. Bodies came in late at night or in the early hours of the morning, and rarely on such melancholy afternoons such as this one. Murders were done in the heat of passion or with calculating precision, and the rain put a damper on such diabolical intentions.

It was the scent that overwhelmed him—of life and death combined, of a thousand different odors, of perfume and matches, embalming fluid and paperwork, but most of all blood. It was everywhere, resounding in his mind and rushing through his veins, an overwhelming urge to act on a sudden bloodlust. He understood then why vampires worked there, for it was a consistent rush almost like adrenaline, an unfathomable temptation that certain of them would have found exciting. Blair was unaware of it, and unaware of her own peril, her neck gleaming faintly in the harsh lights from overhead. He could not remove his gaze from the turn of her chin, the slenderness of her throat, the veins that he could see pumping blood just beneath the surface.

She turned suddenly to look up at him, and the gleam of fascination faded as he caught sight of her irritated eyes. "Stop looking at me like that," she warned him, and he moved around her down the corridor. He could smell his own kind in this place. Faint indications of their presence lingered everywhere, on door frames and trays, in the echo of their footsteps and the sound of their voices. There were humans as well but their scent was insignificant compared to the other smells that surrounded him, one in particular, something extremely old, something that caused his footstep to falter and his eyes to sharpen. He reached out and caught Blair by the arm, halting her as she rested her hand on the nearest door handle, the one that led into the basement. She looked at him with curiosity and found his eyes had changed, shifting into the eerie milky haze that accompanied his enlightened senses. It brought a chill into her veins perceptible even from his short distance, but he was beyond caring for her opinion, lowering his thick dark lashes and breathing deeply.

There it was again, no more than a whisper, a faint scent that reminded him of something in his past… memories, fleeting and rapid, shifting through his mind as he attempted to reach out and catch them, to bring them home to roost. That scent… it was something familiar … something old …

Blair waited for him, having learned to trust his instincts, for they were rarely wrong. Josef could sense things about his surroundings, about people. It was instinctive, immediate, a relentless power of governing authority and suspicion that had managed to keep him alive much longer than many of his colleagues. The air was so cool that her breath left freezing vapors in the corridor, tendrils of white that illuminated the paleness of her features. Josef was fighting to discern the origin of the scent, struggling to lure a reluctant memory forth. Vampires encountered far more in their life span than humans did. For every scent a human experienced, it was a thousand times intensified for his kind. Humans smelled cooking meat; vampires knew what was being barbequed, whether or not the man holding the tongs had used deodorant that morning, and everything that was set out on the table. Humans smelled smoke; vampires smelled burning cinders, crackling leaves, the raging, relentless flames of Mother Nature as it consumed the woodland. They smelled what had caused it, and knew where it would end.

The corridor around them was empty but not devoid of ghost, for he could sense the vampire's presence from earlier hours. It had been heavy, deliberate, moving down the stairs into the underground on an errand of some sort, a malicious intention beneath the calculating footsteps. That was where he remembered it, from three hundred years ago in Paris. Josef had still been young then, somewhat inexperienced but wise enough to remain alive. His activities had been much more liberated than they were now, a pursuit of pleasure rather than caution, for no one cared in Paris who wandered the night, so long as they did not venture beyond the Seine. He had come walking through the arches along the river and seen her in the shadows, a face that gave him pause and brought a chill to his bones much colder than his normal state.

His eyes flew open and he looked behind him, as if expecting to find someone there. "Lamia," he whispered, tension escalating through him. Blair stared at him. Of course she would not know the name, or know what it represented. Lamia, the oldest vampire he had ever encountered; a ruthless, brutal, blood lusting tyrant among their kind. Her name inspired fear and trepidation, a shiver down the spines of those who did not comprehend its meaning, and a shudder from those unfortunate enough to have encountered her in the past—and lived to remember it. Most vampires fed to survive. Lamia did it for pleasure. She loved the approach, the confidence she gained, the act itself, and the observation of death. Humans were her puppets and she pulled at their strings with sadistic pleasure, enjoying their torment as a murderous child would have pulling the wings off a fly.

Someone had told him that she was dead, had been killed abroad fifty years earlier, but Josef would never forget her scent once he had it, for it reminded him of an ancient world, one far beyond his own limited understanding or experience. No one knew exactly how old Lamia was, only that the centuries had not changed her, preventing her from altering from the youthful form in which she was forever trapped. Society advanced but she remained stagnant, ghostly, as if she haunted the darkness in search of protection only to offer death in exchange.

There were so many scents in the morgue that he could not determine if she was still within or had come and gone. Josef was not about to find out. On his own he might have been curious, willing,interested merely for the sake of self punishment, of common fascination in a creature much older than himself, but Blair was human, mortal, fragile. She could be broken in an instant, and he would not allow her to encounter the maliciousness of his kind. "We're leaving," he said, and turned back the way they had come.

Blair planted her feet and refused to move, bringing him up short, for he was still holding onto her arm.

"Not unless you tell me what's going on."

One sidelong glance out of his terrifying eyes would have silenced anyone else, but not Blair. She was too stubborn for her own good. But even stubborn she could not deny that he was frightening, advancing with his pallor and bloodshot eyes. She backed away from him and had nowhere else to go, attempting not to flinch when he rested his hand on the wall beside her. "You don't scare me," she said, well aware that he could sense the increase in her heartbeat. Vampires could smell fear a mile away, but she was doing remarkably well in attempting to repress it. "Something has been bothering you all day, and I want to know what it is."

Mick was bothering him. His own participation in turning him back to vampire was bothering him. But Josef was not about to tell her that. His eyes narrowed and almost as if it had been planned, her salvation came in the form of footsteps approaching down the side corridor. Josef's countenance shifted into normality as he turned toward the intruder, his calculating features once more boyish in their form. He had somewhat regretted being turned so young, for at twenty four he had not reached his full potential, but the young quality of his features made him more intimidating to those who underestimated his abilities. Every vampire knew who he was, how old he was, how many acts of violence he had participated in, that if he wanted you to disappear, you would do so, without a fuss, without a mess, and without a farewell. But to humans he looked like a successfully spoiled businessman with deep pockets.

That, at least, was how the mortician's assistant saw him, an immaculate figure dressed in an expensive European suit with a stylish young woman on his arm. There was a moment of hesitation as they studied one another, one envying and the other with disgust, before the plump individual in the long white lab coat approached, looking up from the clipboard in surprise at discovering he was not alone. Wholly human, and fond of cheese puffs, by the smell of him. He shoved his glasses up his nose with one pudgy finger and asked, "Are you here for the identification?"

Stepping nearer to Josef, his petite brunette companion nodded, ignoring the look he shot her of annoyance. The last thing Josef wanted to do was be forced into playing some preposterous role as a mourning in law. "It shouldn't take long," the man was saying. "Just follow me," and he pushed through the double doors Blair had been contemplating, descending the staircase into the basement. Josef was tense as he followed, watching for any indication that they were not alone. The temperature dropped significantly and this allowed his senses to heighten, sharpening his eyes as he looked around him, but while the scent was stronger here, it was also more distant, leading him to suspect Lamia had come and gone. Blair knew nothing of his concerns as she kept up a steady stream of polite conversation with their companion, who was surprised with her friendliness. More than once, he glanced back at Josef as if to consider what an unlikely pair they were, but the vampire ignored him.

He was so involved that he didn't notice when they stopped in one of the crypts and nearly collided with Blair, shooting him a disapproving look as the mortician drew out the body on its rolling slab and pulled up the sheet just far enough for them to see the dead features. There were no visible wounds, just a pasty complexion on a rather unpleasant looking man. Josef had never seen quite as hideous of a human being before and did not know whether to be fascinated or repulsed. Blair looked at the corpse for a long moment and then shook her head. "That's not him," she said.

It was such an immaculate performance that he might have smiled under different circumstances. Blair had pulled that kind of nonsense on him when he had first met her, inserting herself into his life without so much as a by your leave. It was a maddening trait but one that served her well in circumstances over which she had no control.

The mortician stared at her and blinked once, his eyes enormous behind the rims of his glasses. "Eh," he said, and checked the chart. While his back was turned, Blair nudged Josef and indicated the wall of stainless steel crypts behind them with a nudge of her head. Josef shook his in response. It was Mick's job to go digging through corpses. Josef had no interest in them unless he had created them, and then it was only to take them as far as the tar pits. Or rather, to send one of his _associates_ to take them as far as the tar pits. Blair rolled her eyes and indicated she would do it. "Distract him," she mouthed.

Sliding his hand across the nearest polished tabletop, Josef picked up a heavy instrument tray and in a movement that was inhumanly swift, struck the mortician across the back of the head with it. The man crashed to the floor along with the sound of scattering hypodermics and Josef dropped the tray on top of him with a corresponding thud. Blair stared open mouthed and then shifted her gaze to him. "That's _not _what I meant!"

Josef smirked and stepped over the comatose form to open the nearest compartment. Heart failure. He could smell it on the sheet-covered figure. He slammed it and moved to the next one. Car accident. The next three were empty, so he did not bother with them. The heavy steel doors interfered with his sense of smell, but it returned in overwhelming fashion when he drew open the next one. Lamia. He could smell her all over the balding man in his mid thirties, motionless on the tray as he drew it out far enough to lift the sheet that concealed his face. The newspapers had been kind in what they had said of the wounds. The word "brutal" came to mind, but even that was generous. Lamia had decimated him. It was astounding that his head was still attached to the rest of his body.

Movement alerted him to Blair's presence at his shoulder. Anyone else would have prevented her from looking, but Josef didn't care one way or the other. Her heart rate increased as she came forward; he could hear it, feel it, see it in the vein that ran beneath her throat, and in the hand that reached slowly for the sheet. Blair hesitated and then drew it back, an intake of her breath accompanying the gesture. "Oh, God," she uttered in a voice that sounded dangerously near to being sick. "Is that… normal?"

He looked at her expressionlessly. "Normal is for the victim to feel a sense of euphoria, of release, even of pleasure," he replied, observing as she stared at the gruesome wound where the man's throat should have been. "Normal is for humans to be begging for it, not gagging from it. This is _not_ what we do."

Most vampires were gentle in their feeding tactics, or at least not capable of that much damage. Feeding was a required part of their existence, not an act of ruthlessness or punishment. But punishment was what this was, a calculating and mean spirited act that ended in a slow and torturous death as the victim choked on his own blood. Josef knew that much, but nothing more, for even with his heightened senses, his knowledge of the fiend responsible, and what she was capable of, he could not comprehend the reason why.


	4. Chapter 4

It had stopped raining when they came out of the building, the skies still murky and standing pools of water on the pavement. Blair was as white as a sheet and attempting to keep the contents of her stomach from making an unexpected reappearance, but was far too proud to admit it. She handed him the car keys without complaint and slid into the passenger seat. But as he put the key into the ignition, she reached out and rested her fingers on his arm, preventing him from starting the engine.

"What is it like?" she asked him softly, and for a moment he did not answer. It wasn't that he did not understand, for her meaning was more than clear, but that she had never asked him such a thing before, had only accepted what he was without question, grateful for his intervention in the turbulence of her former life, and the stability he brought to it now. It was something they never discussed. He fed outside her presence and she never invaded his privacy. Their relationship was a complicated one, built up of clever avoidances. Her eyes were watching him with a hint of sadness, for she must have known his existence was destined to be a solitary one. Vampires rarely remained together over the centuries, even those formed of love matches. Eventually, all of them drifted apart or found new companions, but it was an empty succession of meaningless fascinations. Humans remained together for a relatively short time in comparison to the life span of vampires, but even they seemed to possess something superior, some intensity that surpassed even the most passionate of emotions.

Droplets of rain were still gleaming on the windshield, shimmering in the gloom. Josef leaned back into his seat and continued to study her, his features impassive as various responses went through his mind, internal reflections of outward actions. "Solitary," he replied, and his voice was without the customary sarcasm she had learned to anticipate. Josef was far more soulful than he let on, his constant quips and insults no more than concealing a nature inclined toward deep inward emotion. He sounded tired, and it astonished even him to realize he was weary, not from the violence of the night before so much as the emotional weight of his burdens. Her hand remained on his arm and he was suddenly conscious of its presence, of the warmth it provided. Strange, that he would find it so comforting.

Her skin was much more colorful than his own, her heart slowing to match his mood. She was hesitant but not nervous, completely at ease with him despite her knowledge of what he was capable of. Her tone was inoffensive and searching, soft as she asked, "And what is… _it_ like?"

Something in her warned him that she was afraid of the answer, but asked it nevertheless, showing a rare determination he found admirable. Blair was not frightened of knowing the truth, for she had sought it in every aspect of her life, imperfect as it might have been. Josef closed his fingers loosely around her wrist, in a motion that was part caress and part possessiveness, her skin soft beneath his touch as he found her pulse. He did not even have to feel for it, merely knew where it was instinctively. "_It_ is inexplicable," he told her. "To hold someone in your arms, to know you possess the ability to take or give them life… to feel their memories draining into you. It is intoxicating, enthralling, an intense experience that you cannot fathom, which is why Mick and others like him avoid it. They cannot handle it, the knowledge of the power they possess."

"But you _enjoy_ it." Blair was not accusing him so much as surmising the truth, for Josef was fascinated with it. He had tasted the blood of aristocrats and surfs, of princesses and pagans, finding the intricacies of each and learning to discern the motives of all. Drinking blood from a packet was so distant and cold, for it retained nothing of its owner, nothing of the original essence that made it so remarkable.

He smiled and her fingertips curved in his hand, not attempting to pull away but indicating the nature of her thoughts. "That, I do." He wasn't ashamed of it, never had been and never would be, no matter how moralistic Mick became in his insistence that mortals were more than transportable drinking fountains. It had been twenty years since they had torn up the underworld together, since Mick had gained a conscience and become considerably less than fun. Yet somehow, they had remained friends. The reasons why continued to baffle him.

"What would prompt a vampire to do something like what we saw?" she asked him, and the curve of his lips faded.

"Hatred," he said. The same primal instinct and self loathing that had forced him to turn on Mick with such ruthlessness. His friend had been shocked by the pain, by the ferocity with which he had been drained, and it was those same emotions that forced Lamia into such open brutality. There was nothing about the man in the morgue to indicate anything worthy of such intense agony, nor why she would be drawn to him. Lamia had dined on the blood of sultans and emperors, had stood in the fields of Granada and laughed as she watched the Moors defeated. It was possible she had been in existence when the gladiator games of Rome had sent blood spattering into the crowd. Why would she choose such a worthless, ignorant, unappealing human being as that one, or any number of the men that had turned up nearly decapitated in recent weeks?

The warning note in his voice caused her to fall silent and she didn't resist when he loosened his grip on her fingers and turned the key in the ignition. The hum of the engine was the only sound between them as he pulled out of the parking lot, driving the narrow streets with awareness of his surroundings. There was a street light not too far from Buzzwire and he was forced to stop and wait for it to turn green. Several people took advantage of the crosswalk and he watched them distantly, turning his head only when a familiar scent came to him on the breeze. Beth. She was moving down the sidewalk hoping to catch the tail end of the "Walk" light, but the sight of his black corvette made her slow down her pace and tilt her head to attempt to see in through the darkened windows.

"Turn," Josef pleaded silently, but the light remained red and traffic was at a standstill. Beth had seen who it was and came around to the passenger's side of the car, rapping on the glass. His companion looked up in surprise, and reluctantly, Josef pressed the button that rolled down the window. Pushing back tendrils of long blonde hair, Beth was astonished that he was not alone, his swift glance taking in the beautiful brunette in the seat beside him, but then her eyes alighted on him behind the wheel and she smiled. Josef had seen her smile before, and she had two unique expressions. There was the polite smile when her mind was otherwise occupied, and the genuine one. This was the former.

Resting her hand on the door, ignoring the fact that the light had turned, Beth said, "Josef, will you come across the street with me? I want to talk to you about something."

Going across the street to the coffee shop with Beth was the last thing he wanted to do, but she was not likely to take no for an answer. The car that had just pulled up behind him honked impatiently, and he nodded. Beth stepped out of the way and allowed him to drive down the block, turning into the nearest parking lot and wishing just once he had taken the long route home. "That must be Beth," his companion observed, for she knew something of Mick's beloved journalist, having seen her news headlines on the web. Josef made a noncommittal noise. Blair lifted her hand in a deflective motion. "I get it. I'll be across the street spending your money on shoes. Come and find me when you're done."

She left him there in the car and he waited a few seconds before exiting, detesting the fact that he was out in broad daylight. The skies were clearing and soon the sun would be out, preparing him for one magnificent migraine. But he straightened his jacket and passed into the coffee shop, the little bell over the door jangling to announce his presence. Damned annoying things, bells. He was always tempted to strangle people with their cords. But he put on a confident jauntiness as he approached the booth where Beth sat awaiting him, her normally pleasant features composed into mild annoyance.

"You're the one who did it, didn't you?" she demanded as he slid onto the high barstool across the table from her.

Nimble fingers unbuttoned his jacket so it would hang straight, Josef flippantly responding, "Good morning to you too, Beth. And yes, I am quite recovered from saving you last night, thanks for asking."

Her beautiful eyes narrowed and she stirred her coffee with swift circular motions that revealed her outward anger, but it was the inner rage that was more apparent in the sensations radiating from her slender form. They studied one another. There were only a few occasions in which they had shared one another's presence alone. Josef had been intrigued with Beth on their first meeting, more so because of Mick's fascination with her than his own interest. She had found him imposing and predatory, mildly flirtatious and intentionally intimidating. This was the first time she had ever looked on him with anything akin to resentment, and he found that he did not like it.

"When I saw Mick hours before he arrived with you at the warehouse," Beth said softly, aware that they were surrounded by agitated businessmen, "he was normal. What did you do to him?"

Her hand tightened around her coffee cup and the liquid inside flinched. Josef could feel her emotions pounding through her veins, the same silly human instincts that had forced Mick into his self-sacrifice. Vampires were not bound by such things, were prone to self-interest ahead of anything else. It was humans that cared so much about one another and their surroundings, who would act without thought in the hopes of gaining further liberation from their petty difficulties. There was no weakness in him as he replied, "What he asked me to."

Beth bit her lower lip. Around them, the coffee shop seemed to have grown more quiet, isolating them from the rest of the world, for he was focused in on her, closing out all other sounds other than the tone of her voice and the constant thunder of her heart. She was having a difficult time keeping the emotion out of her features, the disappointment. Mick had wanted to be human not just for himself, but also for her. He loved her, and as long as he was a vampire, things were difficult. Relationships were complicated enough without the dangers of such different intimacies. Beth understood that and was trying to accept it, but resentment came out in the brokenness of her accusation as she said, "Mick told me how you responded when he changed. He was _happy_! He was _normal_, and you took that away from him."

"Do you think I don't know that?" he demanded. "For as long as I have known him, Mick has pursued an unfathomable dream of returning to what he was. You have known him less than a year, Beth. I have been his friend for half a century. Yes, I was furious with him when I first learned what he had allowed Coraline to do to him—but I would not be any kind of friend at all if I did not accept it, and allow him his chance at temporary happiness. For that's what it was, Beth. _Temporary_. There is no permanent cure for vampirism. It's not a club you resign from, or a way of life you abandon because you no longer have a taste for A Positive. You always knew that this was coming. You just wanted to pretend it wasn't."

She blinked several times and swiveled out of her chair, snatching up her purse and jacket and snapping the lid onto her coffee. But before she could walk around him, Josef caught her by the arm. Wisps of blonde shimmered in the faint sunlight coming out from behind the clouds, the rest of it gathered into a long ponytail at the back of her head. He had known it the moment she had approached him, sensed it, smelled Mick on her. Not just a hug as she customarily carried with her, but something far more intense. It was a scent that accompanied passion, one that would not come off no matter how much product she put in her hair. Josef was normally forthcoming with her and this time was no different.

"If you want Mick," he said softly, "the only thing stopping you is fear. It is not easy, but it is doable. God knows I don't recommend it, but it's a hell of a lot better than watching the pair of you be miserable for the rest of Mick's life."

Beth was staring straight ahead, avoiding the intensity of his gaze, but he could tell she understood and slowly released his fingers. She left him without a backward glance but her hands were shaking as they opened the door, the little bell jingling with her retreat. Josef watched her cross the street to the building where Buzzwire was based and then went in search of Blair, his own emotions taut. Beth had only echoed everything he had told himself over the past few hours, that he had ruined what little chance of happiness Mick had, that his intention to prove to Mick that he was no longer invulnerable had backfired. It seemed he was destined to hurt the people he cared for most. It was because of him that Sarah now lay in an eternal coma, never aging or changing but never to awaken, and Mick had returned to his state of unhappiness.

It was not difficult to find Blair, for she was, as she had promised, making good use of his credit card. Blair was a mystery to him, a young woman of many virtues and an equal number of vices. She was mysterious about her past and evasive in her answers to questions, opinionated and maddening in her personal habits, but one of the few mortals in the world that fascinated him. She was nowhere to be seen in the store, but he knew exactly where she was as he slipped into the dressing room, unseen by the preoccupied sales clerk. There were a number of drawn curtains but only one that interested him, and he hesitated outside it. Movement, her breath catching in her throat, then she parted the curtain to let him in. How she had known he was there, he could not comprehend, but she allowed him to linger in the corner as she straightened the dress she had been trying on.

He had accused her of being too skinny when they had met, but come to learn that the awkwardness of her limbs was merely a character trait. Following his glance in the mirror, Blair looked at him in the reflection and inquired, "Do you like it?"

"It suits you." He reached out to tuck the tag inside the straps and allowed his hand to rest on her shoulder, sliding downward as she turned to him.

"Josef, I know something is bothering you. Won't you confide in me?" Her voice was soft, knowing they did not want to get caught by the sales clerk, and her eyes enormous as she looked up at him. They were such an interesting color, mysterious just like she was. He had never been accustomed to confiding in anyone, to sharing his innermost thoughts. Occasionally, Mick would force them from him with probing questions or a need of an insight, but Josef had long ago locked them up and thrown away the key. He hated allowing anyone too near, fearing they would discover his weaknesses. Blair had almost found his, for she was appealing to it now, her hand catching his and threading her fingers through his, so small in comparison to his strength.

The store was quiet around them, Josef returning her gaze hesitantly. "You told me once that you trusted me," he said, "and I need you to do so again. If ever again I tell you we must leave, you must do as I say. There are things in this world, Blair, which I do not want you ever to face. Promise me."

She nodded, a thousand and one questions in her eyes, but Blair knew he was serious. That morning had been a fortunate coincidence, a providential chance that they had not encountered Lamia in the cavernous corridors of the morgue. He was not so certain they would be as lucky a second time.


	5. Chapter 5

Darkness. What he and the other vampires loved most, for it concealed a multitude of sins and allowed them to move freely without detection. In the night they looked like anyone else, even if they did not move the same as mortals. They were far more polished, confident, swift and interesting, but only if they wanted to be. Beneath the lamplight they were attractive, fascinating, compelling. People would look at them and wonder what it was about them that proved so alluring. Willing hands would join and follow them out into the night, feeding amid gentle caresses and whispered reassurances—unless of course you were Lamia. Then it was not so gentle or alluring.

Josef watched for her, waited for her, anticipated her, but did not grasp her scent in the square, where music and laughter made up the evening entertainment. Once a month, the elite would gather for what the rest of the world saw as a party rather scant on food and heavy on wine, but in reality was a place where new and old vampires might size one another up, rub shoulders, make acquaintances, and eyeball their enemies. The humans that came were on the arms of their escorts, all of them well aware the individuals they encountered were more than they appeared, and most bearing discreet bite marks along their arms and throats. There was always a danger of luring too much attention, but vampires thrived on this possibility, relied on their cunning with local law enforcement. It helped, of course, that some of them had rather deep pockets and friends in the department.

The weather was perfect for it, the skies having cleared into a moonless night, warm enough to be pleasant for the mortals but not so much so that it was disagreeable to their companions. Blair was both excited to accompany him and intimidated, knowing they would regard her as his pet, his toy, his human source of nourishment. Her pulse increased as they parked the car across the street in one of the open spots, but as she reached for the door handle, Josef reached out and caught her arm. "Put this on your wrist," he said, and it took her a moment to realize what he was offering her. It was a diamond bracelet, shimmering faintly in the dim light that filtered between them. Blair stared at it in astonishment and took it from him, slipping it over her slender hand. There was a clasp that fastened underneath and he fixed it for her, knowing it would conceal her unscathed flesh from prying eyes.

Electric lights beneath swaying paper lanterns creaked overhead as they walked across the street, Blair significantly taller in a pair of high heels, the slender black and white dress she had purchased that afternoon swishing around her. Their entrance was noted but did not interrupt the flow of conversation and dancing that surrounded them, Josef making a direct line for one of his eldest associates. There were trivialities, introductions, estimations on whether or not new faces were a threat; rumors about certain vampires who had not yet appeared, and gossip about others. "Lance was in town," said Richard discreetly, holding what looked innocently enough like a glass of red wine. His eyes shifted as he watched the figures surrounding them, ignoring the music from the live orchestra in the background.

"I know, although I suspect he's the least of our problems. Lamia is here."

Josef's remark caused Richard, a handsome, youngish looking vampire whom he had met in London at the turn of the century, to shatter his wine flute and spatter blood across the grass at their feet. Blair stepped back to avoid being spattered, curious as to what might have provoked such a violent response. Richard was immaculate at concealing his emotions but in this instance his eyes turned momentarily white, an instinctive defense response. "Are you certain?"

"Oh, yes. Once you catch her scent, you never forget it, as much as you might wish to." Josef focused on someone across the way, finding her movements interesting, and a spark of remembrance entering him, for they had spent thirty or so years together in Prague. He intentionally ignored the expression of his companion, for Richard was well enough acquainted with Lamia's reputation to have no desire to meet her in person. Stories of her ruthless brutality were legendary, inspiring to the rogues among them and terrifying to anyone who feared crossing her path. Blair did not understand what either of them meant, but remained ignorant at his side, curious toward the change in intensity that passed between them, a mutual understanding that caused Richard to move away from them into the crowd.

There were other vampires who wanted to speak with him, but Josef had no desire to meet them, to listen to their appeals for his influence, to partake in the customary sycophantic antics that normally accompanied these gatherings. He held out his hand to Blair and she took it, following him onto the dance floor. There, no one would bother him and he could observe them, to his utmost satisfaction. Some of the faces were new this year, others unknown to him, but one caused him to smile. "I see Karcheck has brought his latest convert with him," he remarked as he drew her effortlessly into his arms. "Let's hope she doesn't break form and eat the hired help."

Blair turned her head to follow his line of vision and saw a beautiful young woman watching the caterers with primal fascination. "Is it so difficult to control yourself when you change?"

"For some it is more difficult than others. It depends on the individual. Mick was …" His voice trailed off, for he had managed to forget for a few hours that Mick had now been changed twice, was no longer Coraline's creation but his own. The second transformation had been immediate, merely returning him to his natural instincts; it had no repercussions at all, not like the misery and violence of a first time. The pain had been tremendous but only momentary. Blair was watching him, sensing the change in his mood, and he added, "Mick was different, more in control, hating every moment of it. I, on the other hand, was rather less discerning in my tastes. Fortunately, my sire was not a humanitarian. She did not mind my temporarily barbarian methods."

Those were good times in his memory, before he had learned restraint. Oh, to be so young and stupid again, to not realize that your actions had repercussions. Resting against him, Blair asked, "Who is Lamia?" and felt his hand tighten at her back, tension entering him as he considered her question. That was something none of them truly knew, for she was as much an enigma as her origins. That she survived was a testament to her cunning and ruthlessness, for others would have perished in her situation. He hesitated so long that the woman in his arms tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes luminous under long lashes and the soft glow of the paper lanterns. Josef had forgotten what it was like to hold a human so near, to dance with her, her footsteps as practiced as his own, graceful and poised.

"One of the oldest of our kind," he said at last. It seemed impossible to depict her more profoundly than that, as if it encompassed everything that she was and represented. Blair understood the reverence that came with a creature so old that no one knew how long she had walked the earth, but it was beyond her limited scope. She still had difficulty accepting that Josef had watched empires crumble and new governments born, much less that there were beings far older than he was. Immortality was a difficult concept to grasp for even the most intuitive of individuals. But she nodded and he knew she was considering it with all seriousness, as she did most matters that had to do with things she could not comprehend.

The music came to an end and she remained on his arm as they left the dance floor, rejoining his friends. Niceties and conversation followed, the lateness of the hour apparent to no one, for it was in the darkness that they thrived. Even Blair was enjoying herself, playing the role of his pet, no one suspecting he had never tasted a drop of her blood. There was no sign of Mick, but then he rarely frequented these gatherings, finding them a good deal too snobbish for his taste. He preferred to remain alone, distant from all but a few trusted friends, but Josef liked to be in society. He liked to be seen, known for the dangerous individual he was, feared and respected for his age and stature. His name had changed a hundred times but everyone still knew it, admired it, and even on occasion dreaded hearing it. Josef's reputation was one of laid back violence, for he was not easy to provoke, but once anyone succeeded, he annihilated them.

Friends he had not seen in decades were there, and one of them offered him a taste of his companion, a beautiful redhead who looked at him with such intensity that he considered at length, tempted not to reject the invitation. He knew she was from a good family, her blood darker than others, if not quite the proverbial shade of blue. It was Blair who caused his hesitation, for she stood at his side, with her hand on his arm, ever trusting and curious. Her temperature dropped; he could feel it, and she looked at the redhead with an expression he could not read, for he was avoiding her gaze. His friend glanced down at her and lifted one eyebrow questioningly, but before Josef could respond, Blair tightened her grip and said, "Do."

He was astonished, and she felt awkward as her fingers slipped away from the protective crook of his arm. She did not know quite what to do with them and folded them in her lap, the diamond bracelet shimmering faintly against the dark fabric of her skirt. Josef looked at her and she nodded, doing her best not to bite her lip, or indicate it bothered her. Amber smiled and extended her hand, Josef taking it as he led her down the shallow steps into the gloom beyond the square. Music faded slightly behind them and he could make out Blair watching their retreat from her solitary position near one of the tables, but he did not resist as his companion drew him into the shadows. She was nervous but not afraid as he brushed the hair away from her slender throat, her scent intoxicating. Blood. Only vampires understood the power it held over them. No one else would have noticed or cared how it pulsed beneath the surface.

Turning her face slightly away from him, Amber allowed him to caress her throat with his lips before he sank his teeth into her, drawing her against him so she could not pull away. She stiffened at the initial pain but then relaxed in his arms, letting out a little moan of satisfaction that indicated her pleasure. For humans it was a curious experience, almost erotic if the act was not violent, and four centuries had taught him well the art of gentleness. He was aware of everything, of the pulsing of her heart, the thoughts in her head, the composure of her form as it melted against his, of how much she trusted him when she shouldn't have, that she had never known anything but this, of the pleasure such exchanges brought. Fortunate in her innocence, she had no comprehension of how the real world worked. But Josef was not centered on these musings as much as aware of _her _presence. He had sensed it coming from the darkness, on tentative feet.

Blair had come after him, driven by a morbid curiosity and now, standing at the mouth of the alley, her hair loose about her shoulders, was watching them. He could feel her mixed emotions across the distance, repulsion but also envy. The one time she had offered her wrist to him, he had refused. She was striving to understand him, but also be close to him, and this complete stranger was far nearer to him than she had ever achieved. The thought of allowing him such privileges scared her, but at the same time drove her desire to experience it. He did not need to look at her to know she was in observance, transfixed with the sight and unable to turn away. Two beating hearts merged into one as he drew back, releasing his companion and allowing her hair to slide across the two pinpricks that indicated where he had fed.

Trailing her hand down his lapels, Amber gave him a lingering glance and went to rejoin the others, passing within inches of Blair, concealed in the shadows, watching her go expressionlessly, unmoving as Josef appeared behind her. Blair didn't resent him for it, as she had given him permission, but didn't immediately look at him, embarrassed that she had intruded on what seemed an intimate moment. The turn of her neck in the gloom was graceful, her eyes falling downward as music drifted toward them across the green. Josef caught her by the elbow and turned her to face him, pushing her backwards as his lips descended on hers, lifting her off the ground as she came to rest with a soft thump against the brick wall behind them. It took her a fraction of a second to respond, but then her arms went around him and she almost violently reciprocated, anger causing her to tremble with emotion. He knew she could taste the blood on his lips, as he could taste the wine on hers, but it did not matter, the world falling distant as he drew her against him so strongly that he felt her energy pulsing through his veins.

Her heart was pounding as she was aroused by his nearness, by the strength of his grip, frightened to hold onto him but also wary of letting go, closing her eyes as his lips left hers to caress her throat. The skin was soft, flawless, smooth, and for just an instant, tempting, but he resisted. Her fingers slid down his shoulder as he lowered her feet back to the ground, his face close to hers as he whispered, "You have nothing to be jealous about. I told you then and I will tell you now: I do not need you for nourishment, but want you for other reasons. Remember that."

Blair was breathing heavily, nodding faintly as he steadied her on her feet. Once she could move forward without hesitation, he led her in the direction of the car, skirting the festivities and the swinging lanterns as they moved down the gloomy street. Then, he stiffened. He had caught just a hint of it on the breeze, something that caused him no end of distress. The hair on the back of his neck bristled and he halted, bringing up Blair beside him as he turned his head in the direction the scent came from. In the shadows gathered around his slender black corvette lurked a figure, and she slowly came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. She was seated on the hood of his expensive car, dark hair radiant about her bare shoulders, her youthful form adorned in white. She had had worn it as long as he had known her, with no regard for the season or the old fashioned nature of her garments. Lamia lived fearlessly, daring people to discern what she was, enjoying the sheer terror that accompanied the realization that such creatures truly did exist.

It was not difficult for Blair to understand what made him hesitate, but there was surprise in her countenance as she viewed the source of their threat. Josef saw Lamia for what she was rather than how she appeared, but the truth was not the same for his companion. He saw a vampire so old she knew the secrets of the ancient ones, so powerful she remained undefeated, though many had attempted to destroy her, so utterly composed and full of her own importance that no one could shake her from her dogged, violent opinions. Blair saw nothing of the blood and devastation that surrounded her, of ruined families and weeping ministers, of muddied corpses and acts of sheer cruelty.

All she saw was a child.


	6. Chapter 6

Lamia's eyes flickered in the darkness, two narrow orbs of the purest blue he had ever encountered, her features those of a monstrous ten year old, for that was when her life had been taken from her. What perverse creature had brought her into existence, he did not know. Vampires were meant to take care of themselves and their creations, and to have formed one of her youth was impractical, even dangerous, for children did not have the advantages of adults, the wisdom of discernment to know when to push forward and when to stop. Children were ruthless in their opinions and dangerous when given abilities beyond their normal capacity. To them, everything was a game—but Lamia had long surpassed the innocence of games. Her passion and pleasure now were of a more malicious sort.

Unconsciously, Josef stretched out his hand to prevent Blair from drawing too near, watching the child as he would have an opponent, with suspicion, his muscles tensing in preparation if she should attack them. But Lamia had no such designs. Slender feet fell to the pavement in a pair of high heeled sandals, iridescent fabric fluttering around her as she came forward. "Josef," she said in a surprisingly docile voice, unconcerned with the festivities in the distance or the young woman half concealed behind him. "I knew you would be the first person in town to sense my presence. You were always so good at it, but then, we are family, of a sort: the same bloodline. One might even say I was your grandmother. Isn't that quaint? It makes me sound so much more impressive than I am."

She came to a halt about ten feet in front of him, the breeze rippling around her and causing her loose hair to shift behind her, casting an eerie shadow that stretched across the pavement toward them. Her pale eyes shifted to his companion and one brow arched with interest. Blair knew what she was, but for once was too dumbfounded to speak, or do more than hold her own in the background. Josef knew if she had wanted to attack them she would have done so before now and relaxed slightly, but none of his senses shifted off her, keeping her in his line of perception as he would have a feral cat. "I don't think anyone could accuse you of not being impressive, Lamia. We assumed…"

"I was dead? Yes, well," and she laughed, "reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, although I imagine there were quite a few of our friends who breathed a sigh of relief once that particular rumor spread. But no, as you can see, it takes more than a good staking and an attempted barbeque to put me out of commission." She smiled but there was no humor in it, a cold, malicious kind of resentment that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Lamia had nothing against Josef. He respected her and kept his distance, and that she would seek him out disconcerted him. Her movements were practiced, like those of a dancer, subtle but profound, born of youth and experience as much as natural talents. He wondered what she had been in her former life, a servant or a spoiled child. She had dispatched her parents, this he knew; it was her first act of violence.

Under different circumstances Josef might have liked her, for her ruthlessness appealed to him, but her presence in the city was of great concern, as was the dangerous game she was playing with local law enforcement, leaving bodies scattered to the wind for them to find. Lamia was mature in her thought process but still a child in many of her decisions, and her neglecting to inform the Cleaner of her mess was an instance of obvious carelessness. Blair remained at his side but some of the tension went out of her, for she could not fathom the creature before them. Lamia was a novelty and this made her fascinating. For as long as he had known of her, Lamia had never ventured further than Europe, for her fascination was with cultures and peoples familiar to her, of the same ancient bloodlines that pulsed through her veins. He shared them, not by choice but chance, and his sire was dead. Her name had been Lola, and she had been one of Lamia's pets, a vampire protégée who rapidly surpassed her sire and had struck out on her own. Mick had killed her, much in the same way she had taken to killing her own kind, using Josef's finances to do it, and her passing had brought him a sting of grief, for the connection 

between them had been forever severed; but he sensed Lamia would not care as much, if at all. She had no regard for anyone but herself.

"They tell me you are the oldest vampire in LA," she said after a significant pause. "I just wanted to see you in person, to see if you had changed. I see that some things have altered since I encountered you last." There was a hint of amusement on her slender features as she observed Blair, and he knew that she comprehended their strange relationship. It was impossible to conceal anything from her, for as his distant sire, she knew what his thoughts were, his mannerisms, that Blair was as untouched as the day he had first encountered her. It teased her fancy that he had shown a soft side, and her smirk was consistent as she approached them, several inches taller for her heels. "Consider yourself outranked, Josef," she said, and with a lingering glance at his companion, moved around them and crossed the street, ascending the shallow steps and passing into the square.

Her unexpected presence created quite the sensation but Josef was not going to stick around to watch. Indicating the car with one hand, he crossed to the driver's seat and looked one last time across the expanse of blacktop to the girl who had brought the music and entertainment to a standstill. An expression crossed his face that was not easy to define as he slid into the car. Blair watched as he pulled out into the empty street, his foot pressing heavily against the gas. "Where are we going?" she asked when it was apparent that he was not about to speak.

Glancing into the rear view mirror, Josef replied, "My office." His tone indicated there were to be no further inquiries and she remained silent as he navigated the narrow streets, pulling up outside the building that had several months before been almost completely decimated on his floor. How he had escaped, she did not know, and never would, for he refused to talk about it. The explosion had shattered everything and blown his companions to hell, and reconstruction was just now beginning, beneath a barrage of new permits and other such inconveniences. The place was locked up but he had a key and their footsteps echoed hollowly down the corridor as they took the lift to his floor. There was a pass code for his doorway and Josef entered it, letting her into the darkness. There was one temporary working light and he turned it on more for her benefit than his, as she stood in the midst of utter devastation. Fallen beams and scorched tiles surrounded her, Blair's first glimpse at the violence with which he had been assaulted.

Her emotions radiated out from her in a wake of horror and fear as Josef went into the inner room and peeled off the floor paneling surrounding his safe. Others thought him absurd to keep petty cash there, but it was convenient even in the process of building, and much less tedious than going to the bank. Where windows had been were now only gaping holes and the wind blew through, tousling his hair as he gathered what was stored in the strongbox and pocketed it, turning to find Blair standing behind him, her features pale. "What are you doing?" she demanded, shivering faintly from the coolness of the breeze. Dawn was not too distant and it was the coldest the city ever got at night. At this height, it felt comfortable to him but not so for her.

"Gathering up what we'll need to go abroad."

He caught her arm as he passed, intending to pull her after him, but she wrenched it away from him and he looked at her in surprise. Shadows lurked around them, but her face was discernable in the light of the single bare bulb that hung in the foreground, showing the sudden flush of her features. "You're going to leave just like that?" Her voice was incredulous, certain that she could not have heard him right. To her, he was invincible and incredible, but Josef had learned a long time ago that you only engaged in conflict if you were certain you could not be defeated, and when it came to vampires much older and more powerful than him, he had no desire to become involved. "We cannot just leave, not with that… that _thing_ here! What if she kills someone else?"

"I'm sure that is her intention, and I would prefer it not to be me."

"So you don't care who might die?"

"Let me think… no." He smiled in the way he had of making a point, but this was one occasion when she was not charmed by it. Blair was looking at him with such disapproval that it surprised him how cold the air had gotten between them. Her hair was mussed from the wind and she looked as if she were shivering, but he made no motion to comfort her, knowing she would only push him away. It was like that between them. Some moments could be infinitely tender and others were filled with angry fists and chastisements, rejections that baffled neither of them but displeased both. There was silence, a brooding, tempestuous silence in which Blair stood with her arms crossed over her chest, and Josef remained in an arm's reach of her, fully capable of dragging her out of the building but having no desire to do so, and get pummeled for his pains.

"What if it were someone you cared about? What if it's not some stranger next time? What if it's Mick?"

This, she knew, would get him… and it would have under different circumstances, but Josef answered, "Mick can take care of himself."

"You know he can't."

"Yes, he can. He's not a human anymore."

It came out without his permission or even being prompted, taking the color out of her features as she stared at him, her stance altering slightly into one of defeat. Josef refused to look at her and her lips parted as she comprehended what must have happened. "Josef…" she whispered, anguish in her tone, for all at once she understood why his mood had been so dismal, why he had been reluctant to confide in her, why he had refused to speak of the previous evening's activities. Her hand reached out to him and hesitated before falling on his shoulder, her nearness causing their shadows to melt into one as she stepped closer. The guilt and anguish he had been experiencing over previous hours came into his voice as he confided, "They had Beth. He couldn't go in his human state, so he asked me to change him." Josef lifted his magnificent, dark greenish brown eyes and found that her own gaze was full of empathy. "He gave it all up just like that, a decision he can never take back. I returned him to what he was, and I helped him rescue his beloved mortal. I thought he was off his game in wanting to be human again, but now I know it's something else. He gave it up for _her_. What he has been searching for all his life was cast aside without a second thought, _for her_."

Long lashes concealed the nature of his companion's thoughts as Josef turned away from her, resting his hand against one of the leaning beams, blackened and cold to the touch, a reminder of what his former life had been like, before the explosion had torn through it. Nothing had been the same since, not Coraline's return or her miraculous temporary cure, or the actions that had led to him changing Mick into the very thing he hated most. It could not explain this fanatical obsession his friend had with the journalist, nor his selfless actions in desiring to save her. The bond between them was peculiar, inexplicable, stronger than anything Josef had ever seen.

He turned to Blair with a rueful smile on his face, his tone quiet as he confided, "I turned him back. I did it because he asked me to, because I could not bear to see him lose her. Human lives are so fragile, Blair. One mistake, one turn of the wheel, one snap of the neck, and they're dead. Forever."

Stepping over the debris that littered the floor, Blair came to him. "That's why we have to stay," she replied, and he looked at her for a long moment. She was right. To go abroad would be to admit defeat, that he was intimidated, would be an indication of weakness that would take years to overcome in the eyes of everyone around him. He wanted to curse with the realization of it, but instead he nodded, indicating that he understood and agreed. Relief came into her eyes as she put her arms around him, comforted with the warmth of his jacket, despite the chill of the man inside it. He guided her out of the building, turning out the light behind them, and took her home. Blair parted from him on the threshold and went to her room, knowing he would need to sleep. That was one thing vampires did alone, solitary in their ice boxes, oblivious to the world.

The cold was comforting to his skin, the best means of preventing decay, and he passed into a state of near unconsciousness. The hours passed without his awareness and it was twilight when he awakened, emerging from his room in his dressing gown and nearly stumbling over Blair in the hallway, for she had sat there for most of the afternoon waiting for him to come out. She scrambled to her feet and pulled him into the living room, a mask of shadows as the light was beginning to fade. The screen saver on her laptop was on and she restored the screen with the click of a button. "I was trying to figure out why Lamia was attacking the particular figures she did," Blair told him as he ran one hand through his hair, still drowsy and finding that hunger was arising within him. "You told me vampires prefer to drink their own blood type, that it is more nourishing for them, but only three out of her victims had the same blood type. They were all different ages, stations, no common denominator except for one thing: they were all men. Or so the police think, anyway."

She plopped down into her chair, one leg beside her, since she could never stand to have both feet on the ground, and indicated the screen. Josef leaned across her shoulder and frowned as he looked at the small print underneath the images. "It's sick," Blair continued as he read, "but I think I know what she's doing."

Knitting his brows together in a frown, Josef sat down beside her, unable to process what she had intimidated with a few keystrokes. "Are you trying to convince me that Lamia is punishing _pedophiles_?" he asked in disbelief.

One side of her knit sweater had slid down over her bare shoulder, accompanying the shrug that she sent in his direction. "Think about it… who else would stop for a child walking alone beside the road, or in the park. Several of the bodies were found not far from abandoned cars. What if they grabbed her, and got more than they bargained for?"

"Lamia is not the type to vindicate humans. She cares nothing for mortal life."

"You said yourself that the wounds were unnatural, more like punishment than anything else. No other conclusion makes any sense! Maybe she sees it as some means of purifying the bloodline, of thinning out the monsters in mankind. You indicated her ruthlessness… this is a systematic execution of a particular brand of mankind. She is punishing them, and taking great pleasure in doing it."

Josef stared at the image on the screen, beneath the autopsy photo. He could see the amount of work she had put into her research, the stack of papers beside her, the numerous print outs, where she had written in red ink, circling details of interest. Blair was remarkable when she put her mind to it, and having sensed a possibility pleased her, as much as the end conclusion repulsed her. There was something odd about her emotional response, for she was more distant than she normally was. Maybe what Lamia was doing repulsed her, but on some level she could understand it. There were things in human society that no one dared talk about, an evolution of perversion that he had seen escalate in recent years. When he had been turned, no one would have dared harm a child. There was the occasional deflowering of servant girls and tavern wenches, but children were allowed to be innocent, to trust strangers, to not anticipate that any harm would come to them on solitary roads or at play with their friends.

Everything about modern humanity repulsed him, from its fascination with evil to the deterioration of its members. Nothing was out of bounds and to a vampire, that might have been exciting, but there were still things that repulsed him, that made him feel violence and death was sometimes justified. This instance was one of them, and his response did not surprise her, for she knew him well enough to read the deathly calm in his voice. "Well, then, maybe she is doing society a favor."

For once, she did not argue with him, but remained quiet as she arranged the pages on the table surrounding them. Blair had not suspected until she had seen Lamia, had understood that it was a child rather than an adult that waged such devastation, and he knew that she wondered what had caused the vampire to become so merciless in her pursuit of victims. Was it that she had discovered how easy it was to nourish herself through them, or that some part of her was affronted that the world was such a dangerous place for anyone who appeared young or innocent? Her hands shook as she rested them on the edge of the table, shifting her focus into his unwavering gaze. "No arguments?" he asked. "No reasons why I should change my mind, why I should risk my existence in attempting to prevent her from taking further 'innocent' lives?"

"Don't patronize me, Josef. You know that I find them just as repulsive as you do. But I don't know that even they deserve this."

"Then what _do_ they deserve?"

"To go to jail, to be punished by the same society that spawned them. Should it be the responsibility of vampires to police the general population? Why can't we do it ourselves? Why is this such a problem? Why do little girls go missing all the time, from playgrounds, and jungle gyms, and their own backyards? Why do grandfathers, and uncles, and fathers, and brothers molest their sisters? What the hell is wrong with them?!" She threw her pen onto the table and it skidded across the length of it and dropped off the other side onto the floor.

Josef reached out and caught her face between his hands, turning it gently toward him as her eyes filled with angry tears. He could see the little girl that she had been once in the contours of her features, in the rage that blazed in the depths of her eyes, but she looked at him without hesitation, knowing that he understood her frustration. "I don't know what is wrong with them," he confessed. "I don't know why there are so many of them, or why they have become so bold in their crimes. I have seen some horrible things. I have done some horrible things. I have even enjoyed it, but there are things that not even I can understand. Not in four hundred years of searching for answers."

She nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, the promise ring on her finger catching the light and gleaming faintly. "No one seems to have answers," she told him as he lowered his arms, having regained some of her composure. "I have always asked a lot of questions, but no one can tell me why things happen, just that karma has a way of coming back around and slapping you in the face. Josef, is this their punishment or is it something that I should want to stop? Part of me wants to stop her, to prevent her from killing anyone else, but another part of me, a sick part of me, wants to look at it as justice. It almost makes me hate myself, because I should have compassion. I _should_!"

Compassion had never been one of his strong points, but he respected her for the attempt. He had no answer and rested his hand on hers instead. Blair sensed his opinion and smiled. "I think I'll go out for a drive," she said. "I need to think." She closed her laptop with a snap and leaned over to give him a kiss. Her motions were tired as she gathered up her things, took a pair of keys out of the box where he kept them, and went out into the coming darkness. Josef stared at the material spread across the polished tabletop and then opened her computer, the screen coming into focus. Most of the windows she had closed but there were several still open in the tool bar, and he enlarged them. There was nothing except a church, a magnificent old cathedral that reminded him of much earlier times in distant places. Churches had a habit of mocking him from a distance, and he wondered at her interest, until he glanced down at the newspaper half concealed beneath the mountain of printouts she had accumulated: St. Francisca's Cathedral, the recent site of an investigation into an allegation of child abuse by a former parish priest.

Blair was not one to clear her head. She had a destination in mind, just on the off chance that she would be right. But he couldn't let her go there, not if he suspected as she did, that it was where the next murder was to take place.


	7. Chapter 7

That vampires could not enter churches was a myth: it was just that many of them chose not to, either out of concern at their own immortal and godless existence or because they simply did not care to pursue a faith that would surely have condemned them.

Josef had never given either reason much consideration. His four hundred years had been spent in happily pursuing all the darker aspects of being undead, from the bloodlust that often overcame him to the simple pleasure of being formidable once the sun went down. But as he pulled up outside the stately establishment reeking of piety and reverence, he had a flicker of uncertainty at the idea of stepping inside. It was only a building, a representation of the faith of millions, a house of worship, but like any other, remained empty and unimpressive without the presence of believers in it. It was the power of faith that made religion so impressive, but there were no services tonight and the church was empty, the street solitary and the cemetery beyond ghostly in the absence of a moon. The only light shimmered out through the windows, dim against the stained glass and flickering like candlelight.

He ascended the shallow stone steps, his footsteps slowing as he reached the door and tugged on the handle. It creaked open beneath his fingers and admitted him into the darkened cathedral. Candles and statues surrounded him, rows of pews facing forward to the altar, covered in a white cloth, golden adornments threading upward around the silver crucifix on prominent display. It was much quieter than he expected and there was a momentary pang of unease at being there, as if he had broken some unspoken judgment. But he had not been wrong in his suspicions: Lamia was here, somewhere, and so was Blair. He could smell both of them, though at first glance the church appeared empty. He lurked on the threshold, all his senses on alert, listening for any movement that might indicate their hiding place. There was another scent as well, a mysterious scent that he had never before encountered, but there was no indication that a figure lurked anywhere in the shadows.

Blair was nearby but he did not discern where until his gaze fell on the confessional. Moving forward lightly on silent feet, he drew open the curtain and hauled her to her feet. She was astounded to see him and resistant as he tried to pull her down the aisle.

"Let me go, Josef," she complained, but his grip never wavered. She planted her feet and slid behind him, unable to contend with his strength, trying in vain to dig the heels of her flats into the strip of red carpet that ran the length of the cathedral. A figure stepped out from the shadows directly into his path. He was quite tall and timeless in appearance, rather youthful in his countenance but very old about the eyes, and Josef sensed something was not quite right with him. He was human yet was not, his presence bringing them both up short, for he had managed to appear unannounced. The Roman collar indicated his profession, but there was nothing stern about him, only commanding as he observed them both through a pair of docile blue eyes.

"Let her go," he said, and there was no intimidation to it, not any indication that he was offended or even concerned, his mannerisms quiet and authoritative. Josef did not know why he responded, but he did, releasing his companion's wrist. Blair pulled it back from him, curious at the flicker of understanding between them. There was only a little light left and in it, Josef was luminescent, his skin taking to the darkness and casting the usual spell that accompanied vampires in the dead of night. It was inexplicable and mysterious, but his kind was beautiful in such surroundings and he was well aware that the minster was studying him with renewed suspicion. A dangerous hint of comprehension was surfacing, long dormant but now awakening as the room around them shifted into evening.

"I have seen many things in my time," the minister said softly, "but you do take me rather by surprise." It was not condemnation in his gaze but something else, a fascination that Josef found informative. There was no fear, only comprehension.

From the yawning darkness of the observation loft overhead came a movement that removed their attention from one another and sent it searching upward, captivated by the faintest flutter of white, the only indication they were not alone. The minister stepped back, turning his head as he followed the shadow that passed through the darkness. Josef could feel her presence, sense each movement, and if he had dared close his eyes would have seen the form that accompanied it, a creature so old that she made everything around her seem timeless. It was difficult to find her in the gloom, to know where she was or how rapidly she changed her position, for Lamia was a child and as such had the speed and cunning of one. To her, it was a game and her mocking laughter lingered in the air, haunting their footsteps and bringing a chill to Blair's spine as she unconsciously stepped nearer to her companions.

It was the scraping of a match that drew their attention to the back of the church, flickering to life in a small pair of hands and casting an ominous glow around the young face that appeared above it. Reverently, she touched the flaming end to the nearest candle wick in the back of the church and it sprang to life. The faces watching her were ghostly pale, all of them transfixed, even the minister, who was staring at her with a kind of morbid fascination, numb to all but her influence. Lamia blew out the match and dropped it into the little glass tray, her dark hair loosely pulled back as she turned their attention to them. "Fancy finding you in a church, Josef," she said as she came forward. "I'm surprised the statues have not begun to weep tears of blood."

"It would not be the first time," the minister replied quietly.

Her focus turned to him, eyes darkening with fascination as she sensed the same thing Josef had, that this was no mere mortal. There was something otherworldly about him. Her head tilted slightly as she observed him, narrowing her gaze as she attempted to discern whether or not he was a threat. His initial fascination had worn off and he was watching her knowingly, cautious in the awareness of her power. "What have we here?" she asked. "Not immortal but not human either. I cannot say I have ever encountered anything quite like you before."

Blair was pressing against him; her slender form was warm against his shoulder, a reminder of her presence, for Josef had almost forgotten her in the intensity that flourished between their companions.

The minister lifted one brow and answered, "The same might be said for you, although I am rather curious to know what has brought you to this sacred place. Surely, there is nothing for you here."

"Why is that, because God condemns my existence?" Lamia accompanied it with a malicious smile that indicated she cared nothing for the opinion of higher beings. That she was standing so complacently before them, engaging in perfectly cordial conversation, was astounding, but Josef knew she liked to toy with her food, to play games with it of an intellectual and physical nature. Her reasons for coming there were mixed, but she had now a clear indication of what she wanted, and that was the formidable figure in front of her, so calm despite his knowledge of what she was capable of. There was a primal instinct about him that Josef did not trust, an indication that he was far more than he let on.

The minister smiled, his features mysterious in the flickering light, handsome in his own way but not overly so, just enough to make him alluring without discounting his peculiarities. "Not at all," he replied. 

"God governs over all. There are aspects of this world I cannot understand, but none of the numerous creatures I have encountered over the years have ever given me cause to doubt His influence. It is that you have chosen the wrong side. Everyone must choose a side. Some choose evil, as you have done. For that is why you are here, is it not? For some malicious dark purpose having to do with Father Timbolten? I expected those malicious lies about him to gather some attention, but not the appearance of one such as yourself. It's not true, any of it, and at any rate, he is not here. I had the wisdom to send him away, so I might look after his parish for a time until his name is cleared. Your purpose in coming is in vain, unless by some miracle you have come to repent."

It was apparent by the sneer on her face that this was not the case. The minister stared her down, not intimated, and in a tone that maintained authority, stated, "I think you should leave."

Lamia composed her childish features into a pout, then moved so swiftly that she was no more than a blur, leaping toward him and connecting the back of her hand with the side of his head. The cleric went flying through the air, slammed into one of the columns, and crumpled to the ground. Blair gasped and moved as if to go forward, but Josef stopped her with one hand and she obeyed him, turning her gaze to their companion, who was crouched like a cat, her ominous pale eyes shimmering in the darkness. The motion had knocked the minister senseless and Lamia was fearless as she stared them down, having had enough of his moral superiority. "How kind of you to bring me a decent meal, Josef," she purred, her gaze fixed on his companion. "I was growing rather tired of my current diet, however satisfying it was to rip them limb from limb."

"Why did you do it?" Blair demanded, and Lamia looked at her in surprise, astounded that such concern would be shown in the presence of almost certain death. The church was now completely shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the candles in the background. Her hand reached out and trailed the edge of the nearest pew, lingering there as she came to a pause.

"It's all about purifying the gene pool," she said. "Vampires live on blood, and bad blood does none of us any good. There is a great deal more bad blood these days than good, I find. I suppose I could use that as justification, or some moralistic platitude no doubt you would find comforting. You strike me as one who cares a good deal about people, which is more than I can say for most humans. But the simple and profound truth is that I tend to get dreadfully bored. Every century or so, I must change my tactics and this time around, it is so much easier to get what I want. It's fun, because they are such easy prey. They open car doors, ask me tender questions, tell me wonderful things about candy, and puppies, and taking me home to my mother. It's amazing how stupid they are, how unaware that even the smallest of forms can contain the most ruthless of powers… and how frightened when they realize I am stronger than they are, that in opening their door to me they have signed their death warrant."

Behind them, the minister lay unmoving, knocked unconscious for the moment, and the candlelight flickered around them eerily. Every muscle in Josef's slender frame was tense, knowing he was in for a fight. Lamia did not like interference and their presence at her feeding ground was enough to indicate a severe threat that she would not take lightly. For the moment she was complacent, amused with her own dark designs, unwavering as she stared at them. "Why did you come here, Blair?" she inquired. "Was it curiosity, the desire to see someone die, to attempt to stop me? Or did you want to see my dark form of justice served? I saw it on you the moment we first met. You can understand my motives, can you not? For in some way, they are your own."

"I am _nothing_ like you." Blair was adamant but her lips were as white as her face, tension spiraling through her veins and bringing a flush into her neck. It was seductive and powerful and even Josef felt a lurch of his primal instincts when he saw it, but he was too preoccupied by her frustration to act on it.

"Now there I digress. In some secret part of your soul, you approve of what I'm doing. They are monsters, much more horrible and life-destroying creatures than vampires. They are human vampires, feeding off the lives of other people and leaving devastation in their wake. You know that. You deal with those consequences every day."

Blaire's heart stopped. Josef felt it, before it pounded on in her chest, and he looked at her in a mixture of amazement and dawning comprehension. Lamia was forgotten for the moment as Blair returned his gaze, dropping it when she found she could not keep the emotion out of her eyes. Suddenly, everything made sense. Her reluctance to be intimate, her resistance to pushy and overbearing men, and why she had trusted him so completely, because he had never sought to take advantage of her. He had respected her enough to maintain the distance he knew she needed, but never comprehended the reason why until now. Lamia was enjoying the moment, for she liked to watch uncomfortable exchanges, and so much was transpiring without them ever saying a word. He looked on Blair in astonishment and she returned his gaze with misery.

"What you are doing to them…"

"Is justice, is it not?"

"No, it's not. Even the worst dregs of mankind do not deserve to die that way."

"Fortunately, none of us get what we deserve—do we, Josef?" Her pale blue eyes looked at him with intense amusement, a malicious undercurrent to her words. Lamia knew far more about his past than most of his friends, had born witness to some of his most ruthless acts. He had never been ashamed of them and would not begin now, even standing in the midst of a place of reverence. Long shadows moved on the walls around them, and it was these more than instinct that warned him of her attack. Blair didn't know what hit her, only that one moment she was standing beside him and the next she was on the floor, Josef having pushed her out of the way. He turned with inhuman swiftness and caught the vampire across the face as she leapt for his throat, the force throwing her like a rag doll. Lamia landed on her feet and opened her mouth to reveal a pair of perfect, sharp fangs as she snarled at him. She was older and therefore stronger, but he had the advantage of size. His features changed, his eyes sharpening and teeth appearing as he hissed back at her, the sound magnifying in his throat as they leapt for one another. It was a flutter of white fabric and pinstripes, movement so rapid that Blair could not discern them from one another as they met in midair, all sharp teeth and grasping fingers.

Josef was bleeding, her fangs having caught him across the arm and opened a deep gash, but he had given almost as good as he had received and Lamia sprang away from him, leaping effortlessly onto one of the columns and using it to launch herself at him. He flipped her over his head and she smashed into the altar, falling in a tangled heap of garments, blood dripping from her lips. Something akin to rapture came across her face as she licked the blood off her fingers, and its presence was apparent in his mind, spiraling through his senses and making him almost lose his composure. Fresh blood caused the same reaction in all vampires, an inner yearning that could not be resisted without great strength. It changed them, was incontrollable, and often led to devastating consequences. Lamia looked from her fingers to Blair and he read her intentions even before the slow smile crossed her face.

Her swiftness and small size made it difficult to contend with her, for it gave her speed and agility. How it happened, he never quite knew, but one moment he had the upper hand and the next was laying on the ground, in the most pain he had ever encountered, blood from the sharp point of the cross she had used to slice him open seeping into the carpet around him. Lifting his head, through the haze of anguish at the traces of silver left behind in the wound, Josef watched as she made a graceful descent to the ground. She was graceful, beautiful in her movements, perfectly poised and seemed to move in slow motion as stalked Blair, who was scrambling backward in fear. But Lamia had made one profound mistake—in her bloodlust, she had forgotten the minister. He came out of the darkness behind her like a ghostly visitation and in one swift, brutal motion, drove a stake through her heart.

There was a strangled half-cry half snarl of rage and pain before she went limp in his arms, her childish form slipping to the ground and remaining unmoving as he stepped over her to lift Blair to her feet. She was trembling but concerned for Josef, as she came running toward him. He was finding it difficult to heal, for he had not eaten since the evening before, but slowly consciousness was taking hold of him, the bloodstained crucifix lying on the floor between them. Blair drew him into her arms, caring nothing for the dampness that soaked into her clothes, and the minister looked at them for a long moment, his features masked in the gloom. "Josef," she whispered, tears in her eyes, pressing her hand against the wound. He felt his eyes and mouth returning to normality, leaving him weakened as the minister approached, wearing an expression of subdued concern.

"Please, help me take him outside," Blair pleaded, knowing what had to be done and not daring to do it there. The minister looked from her tearstained face into that of the creature she held in her arms so lovingly and nodded. He pulled Josef to his feet and both of them supported him as they went out into the night air, the cold swirling around them as he was lowered to the church steps. A narrow ribbon of light extended out the church doors, bathing their faces eerily in white. The minister moved as though to withdraw, but Josef caught him by the arm and demanded, "What is to be done with her?"

Complacent blue eyes watched him with surprising compassion. "I will deal with her," the minister replied. "There are other ways of controlling her than death, secrets of my profession that have never failed me. I will see to it that she never harms anyone again." His gaze shifted to Blair and something passed through his eyes, a mixture of empathy and sorrow for her position, but it was gone as he rose to his feet, his movements graceful as he deliberately walked into the light. Granting them a lingering glance, he drew the doors closed, isolating them from the magnificence of the church, but the feeling of awe remained, an indication that their experience had bordered on the otherworldly. Josef had never believed in God, but in that instant was closer than he had ever been before, simply for the miraculous nature of the minister's forgiving nature.

The pain in his chest was tremendous, silver remnants floating in his blood as his body attempted to fight them off. Blair understood what he needed and was prepared, pulling back her hair and offering him the sleek whiteness of her neck. Instinct took over and his hand reached for her, cradling the back of her head as he drew her throat to his lips. Blair was trembling with uncertainty and he bit down as gently as he could, feeling her stiffen and then relax against him, her pulse slowing with his careful attentions.

Flashes came into his mind of previous incidents, of haunted memories from the past, of a little girl running through the woods, stumbling, falling, getting up and continuing to run, her dark hair flowing out behind her. Blair. She was running away from something but he could not discern what it was, for itwas represented by nothing but darkness. The vision so overwhelmed him that he was oblivious to the fact that she was resting against him, drowsy beneath his influence. He could feel his body healing and released her. Blair was extremely calm as she lifted her head, touching the side of his face with gentle fingertips before she caressed his lips with hers. There was no intensity or passion to it, just a gesture of relief and gratitude as their shadows melted into one there on the church steps.

"Now I know how Beth feels," she whispered. "Wishing somehow that you weren't what you are, but never wanting to experience the threat of losing you." Her forehead rested against his and then they helped one another to their feet, Josef keeping an arm around her waist in order to steady her as he walked her to the car. Blair slipped into the passenger seat without a complaint, relieved to be in out of the cold, and turned her head toward him in the partial darkness as he slid in beside her. "I'm sorry for pulling you into this," she said. "I know you loathe getting your hands dirty. If it weren't for me coming here…"

"Lamia is an ancient evil you cannot possibly understand. Trust me: the world is better off without her."

The loss of one vampire did not concern him. Lamia had been a threat to his position of authority and he felt no concern on her behalf. He was just rather annoyed that he'd been forced to deal with it himself. He had lackeys for this sort of thing, private paid individuals who took out humans and vampires alike with astonishing precision. Blair smiled at him from her position against the headrest, and he looked at her a long moment, searchingly. "How did she discern it when I could not?" he inquired, and her lips lost their upward curl. Blair became serious as she considered the silence between them. It had been so obvious that he should have sensed it at once, but somehow it had remained beyond his grasp.

"I suppose she had a child's logic rather than reason clouded with uncertainties. You have astounding insights, Josef, but should never presume you know more about me than you do." Her smile this time was sad, clouded with memories. She did not confide in him, but he knew what she had experienced. It had been a cousin, a boy she had been rather fond of who was older, and took advantage of her. But Blair was more forgiving than he was; somehow, she had come to peace with it long ago. She reached for his hand, her presence warm and full of life. Maybe that was what he liked about her most, that she was heart and soul most of all, more than just pulsing blood and a pretty frame. There was nothing manipulative or tormented about Blair.

Her fingers entwined with his as his thoughts returned to the church and its single human occupant. The candlelight was still flickering through the stained glass windows, but there was no other indication that anything transpired within. It amazed him that a man of God had looked on him without judgment or repulsion, even compassion, and he remembered what the minister had said to Lamia about choosing sides. Religion was obscure to him but Blair had some measure of faith, and he suspected that's where her thoughts were as well. Mick would have been relieved to know there was some measure of forgiveness for what he was, in the actions that indicated he had chosen the side of good. Josef was different. He was far older and more distant, content in his existence, but for the first time wondering if he were not striving in different ways for redemption, if his devil-may-care attitude did not conceal his tremendous guilt over various actions throughout his undead existence.

"No regrets," he said, and it was so unexpected that it caused his companion to look over at him, her features partially concealed in the darkness. The emotions of guilt he had been harboring over previous hours faded as he turned the key in the ignition, pleased not only that this unfortunate instance was over but that he had also managed to live through it, thanks to the unexpected intervention of someone he would have considered in earlier times to have been an enemy. As much as he hated to admit his inferiority in any respect, maybe there _were_ forces in this world he couldn't explain.

Blair reached across to rest her hand on his knee, her fingers delicate. "No regrets," she agreed.

None whatsoever, not about Mick, or what he was about to do. It was simply to leave her ignorant of it, to pretend nothing was wrong, that he was not infuriated against the figure that had brought her such emotional torment and pain, who had damaged her beyond comprehension. Blair trusted him. She never anticipated what he would do, and he left it more than a week while he located the instigator of her torment. It was no different than what Lamia had intended, but slightly more humane and less conspicuous, because his men were professionals. One of them came to him in the wreckage of his office building, holding the address of her assailant with an expression of unconcern on his face.

"He lives alone," the vampire stated. "No real family, few friends, a social outcast with an interesting collection of images on his computer."

Ah, the privileges and abuses of the internet, so useful for corporate powers and equally useful to online predators. Josef stared at the page for a long moment, memorizing the features of the man before him. Blair would not want him to do it. Or maybe she would. He had no intention of asking her. "Deal with it," he said, and his associate nodded and left the room, encountering Mick on his way out. Josef had not seen him since the turning and was relieved that there was no sense of reluctance in his presence. It had been an intensely difficult moment for both of them, but Mick was at peace with his decision, and Josef had subdued his guilt. There was the customary banter, jiving little digs at his newfound position of authority as Mick's sire, the lightheartedness that accompanies old friends jesting with one another. Josef was composed and non-revealing, concealing the entirety of the previous fortnight beneath his usual indifference.

On his way out, Mick stopped and turned to him. "I hear that your old adversary has left the country in a silver box, Josef," he said thoughtfully, his eyes searching. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

It was true. Lamia had gone out on a European flight immediately, locked in a silver box and bound for destinations unknown. Josef did not answer, and with his customary smile, Mick shook his head and went out. What did particulars matter, whether it had been him or an unexpected alley, the same desired end had been achieved. Humanity did not interest him beyond what it could provide. In some instances, the removal of intervening forces was necessary. He experienced no grief over his actions, or those that would be taken that night on his orders. He had sworn a long time ago to protect and avenge his friends, at any cost, and he would do it, whether or not they ever discovered the truth.

No regrets. That is what he had decided. After all, humans and even vampires died every day.

END.


End file.
